


Furred

by ancalime8301



Series: Spencer Stories [46]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Cats, Community: watsons_woes, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 11:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15193736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancalime8301/pseuds/ancalime8301
Summary: One of the drawbacks of having pets . . .





	Furred

**Author's Note:**

> For watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #6: _Double Take. Watson keeps getting odd looks from people and can't figure out why. Tell or show us why._
> 
> This is what Watson was up to during "[Left](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15170078)."

I rose early and dressed quickly; I needed to catch the six thirty train to see a patient who now lived some distance from the city. She and her husband had been among my first patients when I resumed practice, and I assured her I would continue her care even after her husband died and she moved in with her daughter in the country.

Everything was going according to plan until I went for my coat and it wasn't where it ought to be. I finally located it draped over the arm of the settee and pulled it on hurriedly, for my cab was already outside.

The cabbie tipped his hat when I appeared and we were off. At the station, my fellow travelers seemed more apt than usual to exchange a nod and a smile, which I attributed to the pleasant weather. The train conductor was one I had seen before on such errands; he seemed to suppress a grin as he held the door and greeted me.

On the train, I sat near a woman and her small boy, who cast shy glances at me in between playing with his stuffed bear. I bade them a good day as I disembarked; the woman looked at me only briefly before averting her eyes.

By the time I arrived at my patient's house, I was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with my appearance, for those I passed seemed to greet me with either amusement or perplexity. My patient was waiting with the footman at the door, and I dare say her smile widened upon seeing me. "Doctor, how is your cat?" she asked genially while the footman took my coat and hat.

"He's in excellent health, thank you. I trust your three are well?" I surreptitiously glanced at myself in a mirrored vase as we passed down the hall, but saw nothing obviously amiss.

"Yes, the country air agrees with them." Our conversation proceeded to matters of human health after that, and the checkup went smoothly, which pleased us both.

When it came time to leave, the footman brought my coat and hat and I suddenly realized what everyone had been reacting to earlier: one shoulder of my dark grey coat was quite covered in orange and white cat fur. Spencer must have bedded down upon it during the night, for it had not been in that condition the day before.

"Oh, dear," I said, chagrined.

"Cat hair lingers in the unlikeliest places," my patient said sympathetically.


End file.
